The Unmentioned Adventures Traveled Alongside 13 Dwarves and 1 Hobbit
by LonelyWinterRose
Summary: Three siblings Alona, Aland & Alden who always seem to get themselves into situations best left unmentioned, join a quest taken on by a company of 13 Dwarves & 1 Hobbit to retake the Dwarves lost homeland. They only hope that they will live to see it through as they seem to always be saving said company from various perils. They only know that this will be one hell of an adventure!


Hello Everyone!

This is my second fan-fic to be posted here and I am somewhat settling in.

On a separate note; (I will unfortunately not be able to post another chapter to "Eilwyn Fire-Bane" until Monday since I am going to my dads this weekend but I hope this will make up for the empty place I know you must be feeling right now lol.)

Anyway I would like to start off saying that I renounce any claim to The Hobbit and its characters for unfortunately I do not own a single sliver of J.R.R. Tolkien's words as all credit goes to his brilliant mind, may his soul rest safely among the Valor. I only claim credit for my own OC's including Alona, Aland, Alden, Allon and their parent Aldon and Runsa along with their back stories.

I hope you all enjoy this first chapter I will put more up as soon as I can. Please leave a couple reviews I always appreciate any feedback anyone can give me.

You have my thanks and I hope that you enjoy.

Ever at your service,

LonelyWinterRose

* * *

 **Chapter One : A Strange Sight Indeed**

 _ **Alona's POV**_

There are several hundreds of things my two brothers, Aland and Alden, and I have seen in our travels since we came of age just a little over a decade ago.

We've seen elves argue over the ideals that different types of wood were to go in which order over a cooking fire to get the utmost best flavor for when they would roast dandelion leaves. It had been an an insanely amusing ordeal though my eldest brother Allon, who had since that incident refrained from joining our little jaunt journeys, would claim otherwise for reasons which we do not ever mention.

Then there was the time we were mistaken for goblins by the Dwarves of the Ironhill's. Now _that_ had been a thoroughly uncomfortable experience on my part when they ended up nearly burning all of my clothes off. Aland and Alden my two other older brothers who were also my other two thirds of triplets found it also uncomfortable when they realized that the only words or phrases they knew in our mother tongue, the Dwarven language, after they suffered a couple serious head injuries, were that of curses, taunts and other vulgar sullies which had promptly gotten them and there by me with them into even more trouble. Luckily for us I actually paid attention to our fighting lessons to not be so confused after several blows to certain body parts and managed to talk our way out of it, not that father had been pleased about the rather large amount of money in expenses we had managed to tower up in three days of captivity, this too is also best left unsaid and forgotten. It's also best unmentioned of that of the ordeal we had gone through previously to our arrest that made us so resemble goblins.

Let everyone just say that it is not wise to try to chase a freak rabbit into a swamp full of other odd and foul creatures, (one of such creatures being goblins), no matter what crimes the rabbit had made against you and your previously favorite, warmest and fuzziest cloak.

(Let it also be noted that some rabbits are carnivores and will eat your portion of perfectly seasoned deer meat if said delicious meat is left unattended.)

Of course there were other times like having been chased by temper tantrum prone pixies while we were sunbathing; cave bears chasing us away from their winter haunts when Aland and Alden had been foolish enough to mistake a slumbering bear for a large pile of dead leaves in a rather dimly lit cave, and even a time when we were curious about hobbits and their so rumored delicious cooking and we decided to pay them a visit only to be chased away by a rather vexed young male hobbit wielding a broom much like a spear in one hand and a frying-pan much like a clubbed mace in the other.

(Let us just say that the three of us end up getting chased by some being or another more often than not when we go off adventuring to experience something new.)

That last instance had been rather embarrassing as apparently the Hobbits, (as in not just the one who had chased us out of The Shire's boarders personally), had been greatly against my brothers 'watering' their cabbages with their 'natural bodily rain'.

But those instances were no more so embarrassing than when we first met the Grey Wizard. A rather old odd fellow with a pointy hat who had a tendency to be all to pleased with himself over the smallest of things.

The first time we had been pretending to be one of the many enraged animals we have come across in meeting and chasing each other around, as a reenactment of said past times, in a very red faced fuming farmers radish field in nothing but our underclothes pretending to be said animals and completely ignoring the fact that we were of age and myself having been very well blossomed.

Well we shouldn't have been seen in that way by a wizard, or a anyone really, but we did and as that incident also goes without saying it happened and there is no way we can change the past no matter how embarrassing the moment we wished to change was to us.

In the seven other instances we have crossed paths with Gandalf the Grey, or the-most-bothersome-Wizard-in-Middle-Earth according to Aland, (and for that completely not agreeable greeting), he hasn't let us forget any of the embarrassing things he has witnessed us doing.

I think we were all just glad our little oops-we-drank-too-much-again didn't get enough wind under its wings to make its way back to our father. We may be a decade and a half past our seventy fifth year and thus of age by our fathers peoples standards but as our tutors have more than once pointed out, our Mother's halfling blood must be the root of our childish behavior, behavior our father does not much approve of.

Not that any of them would have dared to have said that anywhere near our fathers hearing as we know he loved our Hobbit mother very much before she passed, and even now, and didn't take well to insults on her spirit and therefore our sometimes more Hobbitish than Dwarfish ways.

Allon had the look of a proper Dwarf much to our father, Aldon's, pride being both an average height for a younger dwarf at the height of four feet and ten inches with no shortage of stocky muscles to accompany his compact build and dark haired and eyed with an almost full beard of Dwarrow coming into his prime. Allon looks to be a younger version of our father, minus the various scars our father has collected from the many battles he has been in.

Aland and Alden are tall for Dwarves reaching about five feet four inches tall much taller than any other Dwarf in our Clan and though their hair was of a finer texture and their features more the gentleness of that of male Hobbits their stocky, if a little lean, muscled build was all Dwarf.

Myself on the other hand has been blessed with the short height of a Hobbit at an even four feet, (though I have been told it is actually quite tall for a Hobbit lass), but that's where the comparisons stop between myself and the rest of my family.

It's not to say I do not look like my two elder triplet brothers, we do after all share some of the same facial features with mine noticeably more feminine, but instead of the darker hair and eyes all the males of my family had been gifted with I am left with the lighter coloring of our mother, Runsa, meaning I have fine corn silk textured white blond hair and pale blue gray eyes that my brothers swear are made of ice and silver stone, (a high compliment in Dwarven society), though I disagree thinking them more to be a dull smudged one colored ordinary pale blue.

I know I take after our mother in everything but my slightly taller height, even if mother was also a little tall for a female Hobbit, my bones are slimmer but just as sturdy as any other Dwarfs but my lithe and slight structure is not at all Dwarf like but all petite feminine and ample curves of a Hobbit lass.

It's not to say I don't have muscles as other Dwarves do, because I do. As I am foremost an apprenticed smith trained under our father and though I am slight and my muscles mostly unnoticeable I can beat even the most skilled smith with my finer detailed but still useful creations and can make even a war tried warrior yield under my blades. Though par of it might have to do with the fact that I have over forty blades of different lenghth and styles on my body at all times.

The Ironhill Dwarves had been quite surprised at the number of weapons I had concealed on myself, it had been all I could do to keep a sheepish grin on my face and not fall into the fits of snickers my bothers had started up at the guards faces.

However, absolutely no odd coincidental memory before or after my bothers and I had come of age and began exploring the world beyond our fathers lands could compare to the scene we were looking out at from the trees.

This would perhaps top the ever growing list of times odd ad strange things happened and are best left unmentioned if they are ever thought of anytime after it happened.

In no lesser words, the whole thing was or would have been amusing had three mountain trolls not have had a group of what looked to be thirteen Dwarves and a hobbit, (a Hobbit that looked vaguely familiar making me think that I have seen him before somewhere), in sacks probably unclothed as the majority of their clothes were in a hazardous pile next to another pile made up of what was probably their weapons on the far edge of the clearing while another group of at least seven were tied to a large poll only clothed in their underclothes over a campfire while the trolls argued amongst themselves about the finer ways they could cook the Dwarves.

Now usually out of Aland, Alden and myself, I was the more responsible of the three of us even though I was in fact brought into the world last and was thus the youngest by three hours. My brothers were over a head taller than me and I was usually the one to first poke fun at someone in jest and even the one to start a round or two of wrestling which I almost always end up the winner.I usually start most of the mischief we find ourselves in though I will deny it until my dying day.

I was rather, the more serious of the three of us, despite my mischievous streak, but I was also use to my elder brothers acting younger and joking about everything from a blade of grass to Allon's newest complaint against our wanderings and how is was not proper for the sons and only daughter of a very wealthy and well to do Dwarf Lord to be wandering the dangerous lands beyond their said fathers very safe tall rock wall surrounded lands.

And even though the scene before us rose up numerous jokes I could crack myself, my brothers were for once looking upon something solemnly making me hold my tongue for the three of us knew all to well what even _just one_ Troll could do to the three of us.

Mind you I had been knocked upside the head by the creatures club, which had been spiked I might add I still have the scars from it on my left shoulder, and had thus been swaying like a drunk flicking my short swords wildly through the air like a baton in the hands of a dwarfling showing an admittedly sore defense seeing as my brothers had already been subdued and myself having clearly severely concussed. Luckily the troll, who weirdly called himself Ernie, thought I was doing it to entertain him and with myself not entirely steady in the head I apparently became quite chummy with _'Ernie'_ confessing various worries and secrets before Aland and Alden decided that they would finally slip out of the crude loose knots and help their hopelessly dopey little sister when apparently the troll had pulled me into his arms and rocked me like a baby all the while petting my hair like I was a kitten.

Most of that encounter I didn't remember afterward nor do I recall all of it now as I had had a very bad concussion and as it turned out also several smaller ones from when 'Ernie' had _'petted'_ my head.

I knew than not one of us, especially myself, wanted to have a repeat of that which would be worsened times three. (seeing as there were three trolls instead of just one this time), but we couldn't just let the Dwarves and the poor hobbit get eaten or worse 'kitten tamed' as my brothers so annoyingly put it.

Glancing at both of them over my shoulders as they both hover above my smaller crouched form protectively, their matching faces both drawn down in furrowed frowns of worry and set mouths in determination.

Touching their shoulders I motion with my hands to spread out on different sides of the clearing knowing that even though I am the youngest and the only female in our family, and thus one meant to be sheltered and protected, they will still do as I say in this.

They have never taken their lessons or training seriously which has left me to pick up what they didn't so in ways I was wiser than them despite the three or so hours of having lived life apart.

I felt rather than saw them move to do as I ordered and hold my breath when I see Alden sneak into the clearing from the opposite of my position and carefully snatch up several of the incapacitated Dwarves' weapons and clothes seeing as they had no use of them being tied up in sacks and nearly fused together on a poll above the Trolls cooking fire in the way they are.

If this came down to a fight and they won, though she was not entirely confident they would or even could take down one Troll each without the help of the other two, she couldn't not put in a little joke to lighten what would no doubt be an unreasonably long and uncomfortable introducing name and 'at your service' swapping when the Dwarves were released.

There wasn't a Dwarven stronghold they hadn't visited at least once and left in chaos in repeating echos when they left, not a single household that has probably never not heard of Lord Aldron of Carven Hold's wayward thrice timed demon children. If there was perhaps a stitch missing and someone hadn't heard of us and the trouble that always seemed to be caused in our wake then they truly lived in a hole and not a nice once carved of stone in a mountain or built snugly and homely into a green rolling hillside.

I let myself relax when Alden snitches away the last of the weapons and clothes retreating unseen back into the clearings bordering treeline but tense again when the silly hobbit manages to stand up in his sack and begins bartering back and forth over the do's and how's of how he knew to cook the Dwarves just right.

I am suddenly reminded of the time we had watched Elves argue which type of wood worked best for what and am grateful that the ethics of cooking Dwarves, (which mind you I do fine very offensive and agree with some of the Dwarves who are swearing bodily harm on the Hobbit that he was a traitor), was a lot more interesting and amusing to listen to and witness then that of Elves conversing about wood.

However the Hobbit and Trolls conversation is nothing I want to be brought up at any time in the future again as I can go on living the rest of my like and then some without someone mentioning that a Hobbit, (Seriously a gentle, soft around the edges and fond of laughter and food Hobbit!), and three bloody Mountain Trolls had discussed the best was to cook my race as if they were discussing the weather. No thank, not ever and never bring it up to mention again for it is just another thing that is better left unmentioned.

Now knowing my brothers as I do I know that right now they were probably thinking that the hobbit had betrayed them and listening to the Dwarves in the clearing curse the hobbit I would think they agree with that summery just as I do. (I had to admit though that the large bald Dwarf tied to the spit above the fire had an impressive arsenal of curses even some in the black speech which he had probably picked up while fighting Orc's).

However, I knew that that disbelief wasn't the case at all for me, I saw through his words to the fact that at least the Hobbit had the sense to stall for the dawn to come and for that I decided that I liked the Hobbit no matter what ever his name was if only for his quick thinking and now apparent wit.

Only then the hobbit had to go and say that the best way to cook a Dwarf was to skin them first. Skin them! Why did that blasted fool of a Hobbit have to go and say that for? She could think of at least twenty alternatives right off the top of her head! The least of which could have possibly been to have the Dwarves soak in lukewarm water for an hour or two while still being able to breath and very much alive. The only danger they would suffer from that would have been their skin pruning after a while.

A sinking feeling made its way into her stomach; the same feeling that she always had when something was about to go down hill fast, and not just literally, which has happened many times before quite on accident and some not.

Seeing one of the trolls-William, my mind supplies-pick up a rather plump dwarf holding him over his head and start to lower him into his open mouth I look around on the ground for anything to help give me an idea of what to do.

Really anything would do at that moment, I am not feeling at all picky so any choice is an open door.

I wasn't often out of ideas, but one of the times was I am is in panic and the fat dwarfs life was counting on me not to panic. But for me some panic is inevitable as panic often gives me my best, if not the wisest, ideas.

Two seconds later my eyes landed on a fallen tree branch about two feet long and thick enough that I guess if I picked it up it would almost be fitted to my hand as my actual swords are.

 _Oh Mahal help me!_ I think desperately, realizing that this is another time where panic would help me by unhelpfully giving me dumb arse ideas more fit for forming from the mind of a child than a learned and well taught Dwarrowdam like myself.

But that's it then isn't it? Just like Ernie, these trolls were as thick and innocent as children when it came to pure acts of idiocy. So why not play a game? Why not fight them with the same level of thoughts as their own?

Smirking and not giving myself time to rethink my not very well thought out plan over I pick up the stick and leap into the clearing just as the Hobbit claims that the fat dwarf had 'parasites in his tubes'.

 _Really parasites?_ I think bemusedly to myself as small smile lifts the corners of my mouth.

All the while declaring with as much body and vocal theatrics as I can, "Behold and beware!"

I strike a heroic pose as the beginning to one of Aland, Alden and I's many mock play battles we would randomly put on should the air become to dense, father was in a dark mood, to annoy guests or just because we felt like it jumps to the forefront of my mind. All the while hoping my most times admittedly thick brothers would realize my makeshift plan and enter on cue forgetting their unnecessary mistrust of the Hobbit for a short time.

"Stay your hand ye dish trodden sea dogs!" I yell loudly swinging my _'sword'_ recklessly in the air ignoring the startled trolls and dumbstruck starring Dwarves who were probably wondering at my sanity.

They wouldn't be the first to question it, even I have questioned if I was insane on occasion-usually when Aland, Alden, and I have gotten into a really deep scrape of trouble-though my brothers have assured me I was just mad, not insane, for they would not allow me to have all the fun of having that as an excuse for being able to wreck even more mischief about the Middle Earth alone.

(Never mind nor have be mentioned aloud that even when I'm with them I often feel alone and too different to fit into the world right).

Just on cue my two ever reliable brothers spring from their hiding spots; Aland secretly tosses a small dagger next to the head of the now downed hobbit who had fallen down in fright of my sudden and loud entrance on his way, both also striking up poses and flinging themselves head first into the game of distraction. Only in Alden's case, he literally _flings_ himself into the action as he swings down from a tree he had apparently climbed up to get a better view of the clearing and its occupants.

"Curse ye, ye foul sewer rat! Be back to yer watery grave," Aland's loud baritone voice retorts mockingly as he charges towards me with Alden on his other side flanking his left.

"And ye bet to force me do ye?" I ask with an evil little cackle that we had long ago mastered and copied from our late great aunt, Mahal bless her soul, who we deemed to have been an evil spirit spawned in Mordor's very wretched heart.

"Aye, that we do ye twerp of a cur." Alden cuts in not to be out done by either of us as he starts the engagement, (which in our minds is an epic fight), of our _'swords'_ which were really just a couple of pathetic substitutions if I were to let the smith in me compare them.

I also noted with a smirk of satisfaction that I had the biggest _'sword'_ of the three of us. I would gladly take every advantage my longer makeshift _'sword'_ could give me against my crafty brothers.

Even against both of them in a real sparing match I can beat them both in a mater of under ten minutes but I know that as I am playing the _'bad guy'_ I had to lose by dying a very horrible and gruesome death.

My always having to die is one reason of many I'm sure I have always been placed as the _'bad guy'_ in our games as even my brothers usual good humor couldn't stand being beaten by their younger sister in a 'manly' past time.

Truthfully I don't think any of us remember the exact skit after all we made it up when we were barely twelve years of age but regardless of remembering is we charged into our stalling act with the complete abandon and gusto of that of young youths doing something spontaneous for no other reason than being able to do it and to put a smile on peoples faces in otherwise rather dull and lackluster situations.

I remember Fathers horror all those years ago when we first performed our epic fight on the tables-that still had the food still on it mind you-at a feast that was held for a gaggle of boring royals he had been saddled with entertaining for a fortnight.

May no one ever take to mind that we had taken the 'entertaining' of them into our own hands since we had considered the playing of harps to be much to boring an entertainment for a grand feast along with the 'entertaining' of ourselves as father had previously bid us to do by ourselves while he was busy with the nobles.

Nonetheless, we put in as much-and felt as much-enthusiasm into it as we had our first time we played such parts; all three of us forgetting for a brief moment about the trolls and Dwarves watching us in confused and bemused interest.

No, as we shot jesting curses and well weaved sailor inspired puns and insults at each other we pretended that we were back in our family's halls jumping on guests heads, (the Dwarves heads and bodies), fighting atop the tables, (standing in mock battle on the top of the Dwarves tied to the spit above the fire), shimmying and climbing up the main halls coulombs, (or rather over and up the trolls large bodies), and finally ending with me atop my pile of treasure, (Bert the trolls head), head lolling limply with my eyes rolled back and my mouth open with my tongue hanging out, and Alden's _'sword'_ propped up between my chest and right arm as my brothers cheered and hollered loud enough to wake the dead about their victory against the 'dreaded pirate cur Robrostro'.

It only takes everyone in the clearing a moment to burst into the usual well-played nice-plot good-show applause the trolls being the loudest for none of the Dwarves had their hands lose to clap with them though I saw a few of what appeared to be younger Dwarves about our age whistling loudly to make up for their lack of being able to clap.

Lifting myself up from my _'I'm-dead-I'm-dying'_ pose I slide down the Troll's back with the intent of reaching the ground before he can help me down himself.

From the few uncomfortable experiences I've had with Troll's in the past, I can tell you that once you have amused and endeared them to you they have an extremely brutish barely gentlemanly attitude about them.

However, I know that they also get over appreciative of a good show and that with their brutish strength and my much admittedly fragile, especially compared to them, body I could not possibly stand any of their unguarded appreciation.

So with out fan fare I slide down his back to the ground bending my knees to soften the impact before skipping around the clearing happily, too hyped up on a rare childish high that I do not care that it is to trolls I am bowing and bowing again along with my equally hype high brothers.

But of course knowing what little I did know about trolls I still didn't manage to dodge or duck in time to not be once again scooped up by a smelly overly affectionate troll.

 _Seriously, what is it with trolls and thinking I'm a kitten that needs petting anyways?_ I think to myself as I feel my face fall into a pout though my pout turns into a grimace when I wince when the other two trolls gather around the one holding me all swatting at each other, and me since I am right in the middle of the three of them, to be able to _'pet'_ me.

Was it not enough that I had to have my brothers bare witness to another _'kitten taming'_ time with trolls indignity but also the other Dwarves as well?

"Wait, oh yeah there are other Dwarves." I say quietly to myself as I try not to wince when the youngest troll, (or at least I think he is the youngest), decides to punch his brother Bert in his face before snatching me roughly out of his hold and crushing me against his chest.

My ears are ringing painfully from their loud arguing over who was going to hold me-which I have thankfully tuned out because Mahal only knew that I did not need another thing that is best left unmentioned or remembered running freely through my head-and with my face smashed uncomfortably up against the trolls stinking skin I try not to give into the gag I feel coming on as a reflex from the smell and feel of having my face smashed against a trolls bare chest seeing that as placed where my face is flush against the trolls skin there would really be nowhere for the vomit to go other than back into my mouth. Having it come into my mouth one way briefly was more than enough for me.

I try to ignore the loud arguing of the three trolls as I'm tugged away from the young one back to Bert then to the other, _Tom_ I think passingly. It is both extremely unfair and rather funny at the same time how many times I have ended up as Troll's play toy because even though I'm always in the middle of the conflicts I can still allow myself some amusement at my nearly seemingly consistent situations, always the same thing happens afterwords too bruises upon bruises and then even _more_ bruises on top of those bruises.

After what seems like an hour-which is probably has been given the little infrequent views of the lightening sky I catch glimpses of when I am passed or rather snatched from one Troll's arms to the next-where I am pushed, grabbed, tugged and roughly poked at by three disgusting smelling Trolls I begin to think that this would go on forever and that it is pay back for all the trouble my brothers and I have caused.

That is, until a familiar voice of a certain annoying Wizard booms across the clearing loudly and quite dramatically, (as is his normal way of announcing himself anywhere he goes and wherever he arrives), "May dawn take you all!"

Finally the trolls freeze in the dawn light with myself still clutched in their now stone turned hands while my delightful brothers spend way to much time laughing at me position while trying to _'preserve'_ the memory of their daring sister the Troll Whisperer being once again held ever do _'lovingly'_ by a rather in this case three Troll's.

That and I can already feel the ache of numerous new bruises along with a few cracked ribs, a dislocated right shoulder, (why it is always the right shoulder that gets hurt the most I haven't a clue though I am finding it increasingly irritaing on my part), and of course my hurt pride which, I think, smarts the most.

Unlike other Dwarrowdam's I have no beard or _any_ facial hair for that matter, save for rather thin and mostly nonexistent side burns and a light feeling of downy hairs on the undersides of my jaw lines, for all it seems I appear to be a very unusually short human woman or a somewhat taller than normal Hobbit lass, the former comparison being something I hate. Though Father assures me that my mane of finely stranded golden white hair is worthy of more pride than fifty beards.

I almost sigh in relief when I feel their skin harden to stone though I can't see the light of dawn through the tangle of limbs still grappling for my body even stilled to never move again.

The only thing not keeping me from yelling to the sky in thanks that the whole ordeal of poking, prodding and bending things that shouldn't have experienced anything of those sorts is over is that Bert the troll even in death seems intent on keeping his _'pet'_ to himself his large fist squeezed tight around her chest making it hard to breath and move without pain because now most of her ribs weren't just bruised or cracked but bloody broken. And she knew if she were to move in any direction the rib she felt poking her lung inside her chest would pierce it and then she would have to suffer the fact that she had died drowning to death in her own blood because a knot of three trolls decided to make her their _'pretty, soft-faced, pet'_.

 _Mahal_ , her Father would probably laugh at her funeral, for hadn't he told her this would happen when they left their Fathers Halls a decade ago? That a Troll would kill her and her brothers?

Okay, so maybe he didn't mean this kind of death by trolls but a death by trolls is just the same as it is next. Though death by Troll hugging and cuddling was sure to be another thing listed under thing not to bring up no matter what, why or however much somebody bribes you. Something such as this were best left unmentioned.

So caught up in disparaging about her less than sightly or honorable death she didn't hear the faint chiseling sound until a great wraith of light suddenly flooded her world with white. When her vision cleared and her eyes ceased to blink against her wishes for them not to to reveal the large gray bearded, sparkly light gray-blue eyed, pointy hatted head of none other than Gandalf the Grey she sigh in resignation thinking that, _that this particular Wizard was always much more trouble than his help was worth at times._

Scowling up at him and narrowing my eyes in agitation at the slightly mischievous but still dubiously expected happy smile on his face I fight the urge to reach up and swot his ridiculously pointy hat of his head.

"Ah hello my dear girl! Odd finding you and your devious brothers here this fine morning." He says brightly as he uses his glowing wooden staff to magic away the stone trolls hands.

"Aye that it is," I say passively a sly look budding in my eyes to match his own mischief filled ones, "But then again I'm sure that odd has never been the right word to describe your fondness to a certain fluffed pillow either?"

His eyes crinkle at the edges in shared amusement at the reminder of the pillow I had made for him in thanks after he had healed a particularly nasty wound I had acquired from a poisoned Orc blade, a pillow which he seems to always produce out of his gray robes to lay his head on every night be it on the road or inn, (seriously where in his robe does he keep it? And how is the lump of it not visible?), as he finishes breaking the stone hand that had been until now keeping me trapped and in pain.

True the pain was still there and it only worsened when I was able to finally pull in a full breath but even though I was sure Gandalf new this I didn't inform him of it.

After all why tell someone who knows something you know but they already know it?

Gazing up at Gandalf's calm understanding face you wave your hand stiffly as it was also fairly bruised, though in comparison to how your chest must look she didn't think it was too bad. She had gotten worse from the troll who didn't want to let her and her brothers cross 'his' bridge.

Biting my lip in indecision of giving up my stubborn pride to ask for help or not I sigh heavily and quickly regret inhaling such a deep breath as a blinding flash of pain spur white spots to bust in my vision. The pain of what should have been a simple breath but felt more like being run through with a poisoned blade again I resign myself to forsaking my damned pride which I had plenty of just as my Father does.

"Would you mind terribly to at least numb the lightening in my chest please? After all I think I have just given you a means to and end." I don't say please often as I have always been raised with the thought in mind that I don't need to say it to have things I want done, done.

Though it's not a thought my mother would approve of but I also don't think she would have agreed with father when he let their three youngest children, one of which being her only daughter, wander off into the big wide world either.

"You have given me a means my dear, to what the mean will lead to is yet to be seen." He replied expertly ignoring my use of the word please as he knows that I rarely use it and when I do it is not wholly for myself and once again managing to turn simple words into some cryptic puzzle.

True, I wanted him to dull the pain in my body for me but it really wasn't for me but my brothers, I've never let on to how much the so called tumbles with the trolls hurt me and I was determined for it to stay that way. Because Eru knew that they would raise the waters of the sea and tare down the very mountains if they had even the slightest inkling of the wounds I have received and hidden from them over the years.

Though I'm hardly to blame that the males of my family are so hard to talk to and even harder to bring back under reasonable control in anyway when they lose their tight grips on their more anger induced passionate emotions.

"You should know my dear that in the company of the group of Dwarves there is a healer," be begins as he runs his now glowing hands over my chest easing the feeling of immense pain in it but not enough for me to forget just how grievous the wound actually was.

One wrong twist of my body could mean my life after all. I nod my head wry to show that I understand his meaning that the healer would have an experienced eye for even the tiniest of scratches before he continues talking.

"His name is Oin, I would believe that you have at least heard of him." He says as if he is only making small talk though we both know that his words are anything but of the utmost importance.

I nod again in understanding fighting off the grimace of the pain as my ears seem to suddenly the painful memory of the unfortunate torture they had gone through during the single one conversation when I had overheard him talking to a pair of young barely of age Dwarrows when my brother and I has visited the Blue Mountains.

Apparently just because he is deaf, or well at least half ways deaf because I still have my suspicions about him only having 'selective hearing', he thinks that in order for him to be heard by others with better hearing than his he needs to talk all the louder.

"I am aware of the deaf healers name." I tell him dryly trying to cover my worry that he might tell my brothers the full extent of my injuries and just what their no doubt negative reactions would be if he did.

It was another unpleasant situation that was best left avoided and unmentioned after should it indeed have the misfortune of occurring and come to pass. Either and any repercussion would be extremely uncomfortable on not just my part.

"Good then you should also be appreciative of my next words. You may not be among bosom friends." He tells me with an all too serious and secretive air about him.

"That Gandalf, is something I am only all too aware of." I return in kind my voice just as serious and no less knowing before turning my attention to lowering myself carefully, all the while wary of my pain dulled but still throbbing wounds, to the solid ground cracking a small smile at the thought that this is the second time in this night only that I have had to slide down a Troll to reach the ground. I could honestly say that I have never been so happy to stand on my own two feet.

Without a second thought on the matter I lower myself to lay in the ground and continue to kiss it even though my actions are sure to be brought up sometime soon by my brothers in a teasing session that would go on until I box Aland and Alden's ears like the pair of dwarflings they so often act like.

But I can not bring myself to care, I am just glad that I had not been hugged to death by three trolls that had wanted to keep me as a pet as if I were a cute and cuddly kitten.

Flopping onto my back I determine that no one would begrudge me if I took a short nap seeing as I had almost been killed by Troll"s via hugging from said trolls not ten minutes earlier while saving the Dwarves arse's from becoming said Troll's near dawn snack.

No, no one could say that I did not deserve to take a short nap and damn whoever says that I do not to Melkor's bloody hall's and if they did then she would not be responsible for their fate.

Not trying to stop her form napping was probably the wisest thing anybody could do since the fate that she had in mind for whoever spoke against her in this is not kind and some bits were undoubtedly best left unmentioned and above all best not to think of; if only to preserve ones own sanity.

With that last though in mind I fall into a light sleep in the middle of the clearing a small frown on my face as I try to ignore the pain radiating in my torso and throughout the rest of my body unaware of my Aland and Alden's worried matching frowns that reflected my own minus the slight look of being in pain that I had about my down turned mouth and Gandalf's trade mark I-see-something-or-someone's-life-that-I will-soon-be-meddling-in smile that was all together too smug and decidedly I-am-only-a-poor-innocent-feeble-old-man-that-would-not-dare-to-do-anything-even-distantly-related-to-meddling-in-the-person-I'm-looking-at's-life, looking to be at all good for anyone.

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So how was it? Good? Bad? Somewhere in between?

Leave a review or two.

Next chapter; Just what exactly were each member of Thorin Oakenshield's Company thinking when Alona, Aland, and Alden suddenly appeared and proceeded to stall the three Troll's that had captured them until Gandalf came along with the dawn with an epic mock fight?

I will not be able to put up another chapter on either of my stories until Monday since I am going to my dads and he doesn't have a computer I can use. That does not mean however that I will not be working on them over the weekend. I promise that I will have the second chapters to both stories posted by next Tuesday and perhaps another story too.

Also; Let me know who you think I should pair Alona with in a review. By the fifth chapter I want to have a set match to her and I just cannot decide who she should be with.

Ever at your service,

LonelyWinterRose


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